Story gems for you to treasure!

Life has been a roller coaster for the last couple of seasons. Hospital stays, changes at the day job, changes at home. It’s been easy to feel overwhelmed, even easier to let some things fall to the wayside *cough* blogging *cough*.

In an effort to organize my life and feel like I’m accomplishing something, I decided to take up planning. I totally blame Kwana Jackson and Gwen Hayes for this, as they waxed poetic about their planner/journaling purchases on Twitter. I went from a 5″x7″ horizontal weekly layout to a letter sized layout. Now I’m using a standard-sized Happy Planner, but I’m eyeing the letter sized one for next year.

letter sized planner-plenty of room to write!

I’m enjoying making lists and checking off accomplishments. That and decorating my planner helps me manage my stress, which is huge! My planner tastes and needs are ever evolving but I like having a planner that can adapt to my needs and I add or remove sections.

Happy planner makes me happy!

Speaking of lists, some of my planner buddies and I are taking a #ListifyLife challenge. Organized by Roni Loren and Sierra Godfrey, we’re going to make lists that coincide with a weekly topic–and YOU can join in!

The challenge starts tomorrow, March 20th! Follow and use the hashtag #ListifyLife. If you’d like to use the write-in cards, download them from Sierra’s website here.

Happy New Year, beautiful people! After a brief hiatus, I’m back on the My Sexy Saturday blog hop to share an excerpt from my alter ego, Mallery Malone! Mallery’s got a box set of billionaire bad boy fighters living it up in New Orleans, taking what they want, when they want–until each one reconnects with the one woman who could bring each to their knees.

So for the One Sexy Girl theme, let me introduce you to KNOCK OUT’S retired heavyweight boxer Sebastian Delacroix and the moment he sees his former flame, boxer Renata Giordano, for the first time after years apart:

***********************************

Silence rolled across the gym, eventually reaching Sebastian. He caught the bag, stopping its swinging motion, then turned to face the door.

A woman stood in the entrance dressed in black fitted pants and a gray hoodie, gym bag in hand. Sunlight spilled in around her, highlighting the red streaks in her dark brown ponytail even as it cast the rest of her in silhouette. Women were a rarity at Hard Knocks. He didn’t think there were any even on the cleaning crew. Most women took a step inside, realized the only classes were competitive weight designations, and quickly retreated.

This woman didn’t. Instead, she strode into the gym as if she belonged there and knew the layout. Knew that nothing was soft in Hard Knocks, not even the towels, and neither was she. Sebastian could admire a woman like that, a woman who owned the space she claimed, and dared anyone to knock her out of it.

Sebastian’s gut tightened. He knew of only one woman who’d made a place for herself in this gym, one woman who trained hard and punched harder than many of the wannabe fighters who came through Duparte’s doors. Was she here already?

He narrowed his gaze as the woman walked toward his area. He knew that walk. Knew the tilt of her head, the swing of her shoulders, the sway of those hips. Knew every inch of that toned body, the strength of her punches and her legs wrapped around his waist. Renata.

She unzipped her hoodie one-handed as she crossed the floor, revealing one of those sports bra tops and the Mona Lisa equivalent of six-pack abs on a woman. His hands curved inside his gloves. Good God, the years of dominating the ladies’ light welterweight championship had been good to her. Most of that weight was solid muscle, though she had curves where it counted. High, tight breasts he could cup in his hands, an equally cupable ass, thighs that could grip a man and hold him in place as they fucked each other stupid. Defined arms that powered a serious punch and a brutal right hook, but fingers so soft and sure when they wrapped around his cock. All that awesomeness born of a Sicilian father and Puerto Rican mother, Renata was a whirlwind of passion and energy that he’d loved getting caught up in.

Fuck. With a growl he renewed his attack on the punching bag, imagining Roddy Cooper’s face on the polyurethane cover. Cooper had had years with Renata that should have belonged to Bas. He’d known the moment it happened that he shouldn’t have walked away from her. Shouldn’t have let his fucking fear and newfound sense of honor push away the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Sugar is my 20th published work under my name. Yep, TWENTY books and novellas. If I add in the books I write under my alter ago, the total is TWENTY FIVE.

This month also marks my 15th year as a published author. My first book, No Commitment Required, was released fifteen years ago this month.

It has been an incredible, emotional ride, truly a roller coaster career of ups and downs. I have screamed in delight and frustration and rage. I have laughed, I have cried, I have celebrated and I have mourned. Good advice, horrible advice. Helpful friends and wolves in sheep’s clothing. Great and not-so-great in the entire gamut of the publishing process.

Are there things I would have done differently, if I could turn back time? Absolutely! Hindsight is a beautiful thing, after all. Yet the people I have encountered along the way have shaped me into the writer I am today and I am grateful to each and every one of you.

Most of all, I am thankful to my readers. Those who just discovered me and those who have been with me since book one. Writing can be a lonely endeavor, and your notes go a long way to helping me keep my butt in my chair and my fingers to my keyboard. Thank you for coming along with me on this journey. Thank you for enjoying the characters I create and the story they tell. It is my most fervent hope that I’m still here fifteen years and another twenty-five books from now, entertaining you with my story gems.

Happy Halloween, readers! For this All Hallows Eve edition of My Sexy Saturday, I’m sharing a seven paragraph excerpt from Hunting the Jackal. These jackal shifters serve the Egyptian god Anubis and protect the living from the dead–especially the dead who don’t want to stay that way.

Amarie is new to the Atlanta clan and has been living with mates Rashon and Kurik for the last six months. After a brush with death, Rashon is ready for him and Kurik to make a move and form a triad with their skittish roomate. But what does Amarie think?

Rashon kissed her. He’d kissed her! And not just a light, sisterly peck, but a breath-stealing, toe-curling mesh of mouths. She would have excused it as a momentary confusion on his part, something he wasn’t aware he was doing except that they’d been mid-discussion, and she’d kissed him back like her life had depended on it. Then he’d kissed Kurik, and then—

She wrenched the shower on, her senses still reeling. Why? Why would Rashon kiss her like, like she was his partner? From what she knew, he and Kurik had been together for most of a century. In all that time, neither had been with anyone else, male or female. Since she’d become their roommate, neither had treated her as anything other than a valued member of the clan, an act that had eased the trauma she’d suffered before being banished from her home clan. The easy camaraderie and chaste puppy piles on the couch during martial arts movie marathons sowed the seeds of loyalty, friendship and a fierce caring and protective streak. She would do anything for Rashon and Kurik.

Now, she wondered if she’d damaged that friendship. She’d done her best to appear asexual in order to keep the unattached male jackals off her scent. The last thing she wanted was to make the other men think she was interested in sex, much less a relationship.

Pausing as she toweled herself dry, she skated her fingers over her lips. Rashon had kissed her and she’d returned it. Besides leaving her confused, it left her wanting more. Wanting what she couldn’t have. Wanting him.

Rashon heightened her awareness as no one else had before, from the smooth bronze of his skin to the teasing glint in his liquid copper eyes to the open warmth of his personality. He was like the bright dawn sun, chasing nighttime fears away. Kurik, on the other hand, was the strength of the noon sun as it began its descent. Large, well-muscled golden skin with a shock of hair they called “Seti-red,” Kurik had been right there beside him. Rashon had to know that his lover, his partner, his mate, was beside him on the bed. It didn’t make sense for Rashon to reach for her when Kurik was right there. It didn’t make sense for Rashon to reach for her at all. To hold on to her as he’d rolled over, Kurik covering him for one of the hottest kisses she’d ever witnessed.

Gods. Her mind spun as she pulled her hair into a wet ponytail and went in search of clothing. She couldn’t recall when she’d started to be sexually aware of them, much less when she’d started getting curious and aroused. Now all she could think about was seeing them together, watching their bodies sliding together, mouths clashing. Hands gripping, stroking, bringing pleasure. Reaching out to invite her in.

A whimper eased out despite her attempt at control. She wanted that, wanted it with a bone-deep need bordering on desperation.

**********************************************************************************************
I hope you enjoyed my excerpt! If you’d like to learn more about my Sons of Anubis series, please check out my Paranormal Romance page. If you’d like to purchase Hunting the Jackal, click here: Amazon l Kobo l Barnes and Noble| Books-a-Million

Hello, and welcome to my stop on this week’s My Sexy Saturday Blog Hop! This week’s theme is Something About Sexy and I can’t think of anything sexier than this excerpt from SUGAR, in which Siobhan owes Charlie a thirty-second apology kiss. Anyone can give a kiss, but Siobhan is going to introduce Charlie to her alter ego, burlesque performer Sugar Malloy. By the time she’s done, he’ll be the apologizing to her!

As he watched, she danced back to the desk and sat down on the edge. The way she kicked her legs and smiled at him bludgeoned his brain cells, erasing all higher thought. Posing sexily, she slid both hands down each thigh and opened the snaps holding her stockings, then undulated her way out of the lacy belt-thing circling her waist. Next came the stockings, rolled down her beautiful legs one by one.

Then she did a shoulder shake, and her bra straps fell down her arms. He was panting now; he knew it, like a dog after a female in heat, especially when she reached for the front clasp holding her bra closed. Her gaze locked to his as she held her bra to her breasts, then she opened it and let it fall to the floor.

Pasties. Bright blue sparkly pasties covered her nipples and areolae, but dear God, her full breasts sat up proudly and moved like they were real. They bounced as she sprang to her feet, stuck her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and did a heart-stopping shimmy that dropped the lacy fabric to her feet, leaving her in what he realized was a flesh-colored G-string. As the music reached a crescendo, she straddled his lap and entwined her arms around his neck. His dick surged against his zipper as her heat settled onto his lap.

He didn’t know where to look—at the full breasts pressed against his chest, the nude-colored thong that barely hid her pussy, or the bright blue eyes that gazed at him with lust, pride, and a hint of vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” he said thickly once he remembered how to speak. “For everything I’ve done up to this point and everything coming after. I’m sure as hell sorry that I didn’t try harder to learn what you wear under your clothes.”

Her husky laugh bounced her tits and brushed her thong-covered mound against his zipper. He gritted his teeth, still not touching her though he burned with the need to run his hands up her waist to her beautiful breasts. Good things came to those who waited, right?

She sank her hands into his hair. “Apologies accepted. Now be a good boy and hold still for your thirty-second kiss.”

Welcome to my entry for My Sexy Saturday #113. The theme is all about the sexy, and I think you’ll agree that this seven sentence snippet from my upcoming novel, SUGAR, is all about that!

“It’s like you’re hypnotizing me, putting me under some kind of spell.”

“Really?” He turned her hand over, tracing his fingers over the staccato beat of her pulse. “Does your pulse start racing? Do you feel as if you’ve just ran as far as you could for as long as you could and your heart’s threatening to burst out of your chest? Do you feel like there’s a static charge building up along your skin, and all it will take is one small touch to set off sparks?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her heart pounding at the branding touch of his fingers.

SUGAR is book two in the Sugar and Spice series and will be published 11/3. You can pre-order it here:

There’s currently a Goodreads giveaway running. You could win a copy of SUGAR–and a copy of SPICE! Click here to enter the contest. Prizes sent by and courtesy of Berkley Books. Contest ends 10/23. Good luck!

Like this:

Posted in Writing | Comments Off on Sugar and Spice Goodreads Giveaway!

The wonderful folks at Berkley Books are hosting a Goodreads giveaway to celebrate the upcoming release of SUGAR! 10 lucky people not only have a chance to win a copy of SUGAR, but you’ll get a copy of SPICE as well! How sweet is that?

Like this:

So very thrilled, proud and honored to have been awarded the Maggie Award of Excellence for Erotic Romance for SPICE. My thanks to the judges, my editor Cindy Hwang and my agent Jenny Bent for giving this story of addiction, recovery, love and acceptance a chance!

For those of you who bought 12 Alphas 12 Months and help us get on the USA Today bestsellers list, thank you! I know many of you are wondering when my novella for Mr. May, PRESCRIPTION FOR LOVE, will be available as a stand alone release, so here’s my thought:

I want to expand the story because I do think there’s more that can be told about Alex and Jasmine and their journey to love. NAUGHTY (Sugar & Spice #3) is due to my publisher on December 1. I start the rewrite of PFL the very next day. My goal is to have it available at all e-retailers in time for Valentine’s Day.

In the meantime, check out the cover if you haven’t seen it! Isn’t Alex “AJ” Galindo hot?

Hello, and welcome to my entry for My Sexy Saturday! Once again, we return to Spice, book one of the Sugar and Spice series. Nadia and Kaname are at Club Tatas, where her partner Siobhan is performing burlesque with the Crimson Bay Bombshells. They’ve gone two days without sexual gratification and the temptation is great. How does Professor Sex handle it? Read these seven sexy paragraphs to find out!

*************************************************************

Nadia sank onto Kane’s lap. Her short skirt and thong provided zero coverage, her bare buttocks sliding across the smooth fabric of his pants as she settled into place. His erection pressed against the back of her thighs, the heat of him branding her through the fabric.

She darted a glance at him. “A test for both of us, as I said.” The velvet of his voice slid over her senses, pebbling her skin. “Ninety minutes until el keurchi. Now introduce me to your friends.”

She belatedly made introductions, heat staining her cheeks as she noted the knowing glances from her extended circle of friends. With another fifteen minutes until show time, Nadia expected Kane to be bombarded with questions. He was, but he handled it well, engaging Vanessa in college talk and asking Jas about his cupcake-decorating technique, posing for photos. All the while, he would take sips of his icy drink, then trace his chilled fingertips over her spine, keeping her desire on a slow simmer. But if she thought that would be the extent of her torture, she was mistaken.

When the house lights dimmed and the mistress of ceremonies took the stage, Kane shifted his left hand. Nadia held her breath, tension filling her as she tracked his movement from her knee to her thigh, then to the hem of her skirt. He wouldn’t, would he?

The first act took the stage, a ribald flasher skit that got the crowd roaring with laughter. Kane’s hand slipped under her skirt and between her thighs. Nadia froze, biting her lip against a gasp of pleasure as his forefinger unerringly found her clit.

“Kane?”

He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “I said you couldn’t self-gratify,” he said, his voice for her alone. “I never said I wouldn’t pleasure you. Open your legs.”